The Assassin's Curse Read Online Free Page A

remembering another time
with Sicarius in the woods. A tree had nearly dropped on her, and
he had pulled her to safety. That had been during a fierce
wind-and-lightning storm though. This was a calm summer
evening.
    She tore her gaze from the log and looked for
Sicarius. Surely he had heard that. Why hadn’t he come back to
check on her?
    Because he’s not himself, a voice in the back
of her mind whispered.
    Amaranthe put a foot on the log, intending to
climb over it and continue on, but soft clacks reached her ear, and
she paused. Now what?
    “Sicarius?” she asked, then immediately felt
foolish for doing so. First off, he didn’t make noise. Second, if
he were going to make noise, it wouldn’t sound like a machine.
    The clacks grew louder, rhythmic and
determined. Amaranthe struggled to pinpoint the source. The noise
seemed to come from the left and the right. Soft whirs joined the
clacks.
    “Lantern,” she muttered to herself. “Should
have brought a lantern.”
    A twig snapped to her left. Amaranthe
hesitated, not certain if it would be better to return to the beach
or continue forward. The fact that Sicarius should be up ahead
somewhere made the decision for her, and she hopped over the fallen
tree. The clacks faded as she pulled away from it, and she started
to let out a relieved breath, but the reprieve was short-lived.
    The clacks resumed, louder this time.
Whatever was making them was on the trail now, following her.
    A buzz sounded behind her, the sound
reminiscent of a saw in a steam-powered mill. Amaranthe picked up
the pace, twisting and weaving through the foliage, ducking
branches and navigating roots that seemed to reach out of the
ground, grasping at her feet. One snagged her, and she pitched
forward, barely keeping from tumbling to the ground. Her crossbow
smacked against a tree, and she winced at the noise, though the
sound seemed insignificant next to the whirs and clacks coming from
behind. She had little hope of sneaking up on the thieves now.
    Amaranthe drew her sword and thought of
stopping and making a stand against whatever machinery followed
her, but she feared neither blade nor bow would be effective
against metal. And what if it was some sentient magical construct?
She had—
    A crash sounded less than five feet behind
her. Branches snapped, and gears whirred.
    Amaranthe found a break between trees and
darted off the path, hoping a machine would struggle to follow her
through dense undergrowth.
    Thorns scraped at her bare arms, and brambles
sought to entangle her legs. A moon peeped over the rocky apex of
the island, bathing the woods with its silvery light. The buzz
sounded again, scarce meters behind Amaranthe.
    If she had a moment to think, to see what she
was dealing with, maybe she could come up with something more
constructive than running. She strapped her crossbow over her
shoulder, lunged for the nearest tree, and climbed.
    Something slammed into the trunk below her.
The tree trembled, its needles raining down upon Amaranthe.
    Before she got a good look at her first
attacker, a second shape rolled out of the undergrowth, a round
bronze contraption that reminded her of a giant ladybug. With
pincers. And circular saws. Squat stacks sat on the backs of both,
belching black smoke, and filling the air with the scent of burning
wood. The things seemed Turgonian, but more than punchcards were
instructing them if they had followed her off the trail and—
    A saw buzzed, biting into the trunk of her
tree. The force rattled her perch, and she dug her fingernails into
the bark to keep from falling out. With the machines below her, she
could see their metal carapaces more clearly. Black crests were
painted on their backs, images of an oilcan over crossed swords,
the symbol representing the army’s engineering division. So,
Turgonian contraptions after all. More of the army’s latest
technology. Unfortunately, she did not see how that information
helped her.
    The second machine rolled to the